A Brief History of Everything
by Wuckfad
Summary: In this, the pilot episode, Jim Phelps smokes a magazine and plays lawn darts.
1. Default Chapter Title

The Brief History of Everything - OR - Recipe for Plastic Spoon  
Chapter 1  
Octoberary 20st, 1999  
By: Wuckfad 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Chapter 1 - The 3 o'clock battering ram.  
"We replaced your blood with Foldgers Crystals!"  
-Some Crazy Asshole 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"Good Morning Mr. Phelps. This is the 3 o'clock battering ram. Would   
you like coffee, tea, urine, weed, a fine parenting magazine." asked   
the stewardess. 

"Just the weed and the parenting magazine. Thank you." Mr. Jim Phelps   
replied groggily. 

The stewardess crawled down the aisle on all fours and handed Phelps   
the good weed and the parenting magazine. He promptly whipped out his   
cedar pipe and a lighter and proceded to rip a page out of the   
magazine, tear it into chunks and stuff it into his pipe. He carefully   
folded up his grass and put it in his pocket. 

"Good Evening Mr. Phelps. This is HQ. As you might know. HQ is a place   
where all the agents of the A-Team convene and play lawn darts." His   
pipe explained. "Your services are needed here. The A-Team is losing!   
You are the king of the darts. We need you immediately. This message   
will flush itself down the toilet in 3 seconds." 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

47 seconds later... 

"Ratatatatat?" Replied Mr. Jim Phelps as he jumped off the side of the   
boat 

James Bond theme property of Monty Norman, Monty Python, M, Q and not   
so much Moneypenny. Copyright 6,000,000,000 BC. 

--------------------------------------  
Dear Captain Wuckfad.  
In light of the recent dwarf tossing in steerage, I suggest  
the addition of a new red light district in 47th class.  
No-one.  
-------------------------------------- 

"Bob?" Said Ed.  
"What Ed?" Said Ed.  
"Where is the cat sauce?" Said Ed.  
"I don't know, Bob." Said Ed.  
"Oh. Okay." Said Ed.  
"But we do have a high concentration of xenon particle in the cupboards   
on deck 32 sector 2." Said Ed.  
"Is that by the burlesque house?" Said Ed.  
"Yeah I think so." Said Ed. 

ENTER MINISTRY OF DARKNESS 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Questions? Comments?  
Wuckfad  
wuckfad@hotmail.com  
-or-  
wuckfad@bolt.com 

Rip Farts, Not War.  
Just Speef it. 

Reefers for the legalization of Marijuana.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------


	2. Chapter 2

The Brief History of Everything - OR - Recipe for Plastic Spoon  
Chapter 2  
Octoberary 20st, 1999  
By: Wuckfad  
----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Chapter 2 - Hoggfarts to go. 

"More particularly Hoggfart's ANUS!"  
-Uncle Aunt Jesse (Later On) 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"Stick to your own jurisdiction Mahogany!" Screamed police chief   
Ahyithat. 

"It's all my jurisdiction when my goldfish shoots the town hamster.   
Replied Jim Mahogany walking out of the ditch as he promptly ate the   
secretary's secret stash of piranha farts." Replied Jim Mahogany   
walking out of the ditch as he promptly ate the secretary's secret   
stash of piranha farts. 

That man. HJAHJAHJAH. They all had a good laugh and ate a box of kool-  
aid. 

Well, I'd tell you, that did not go over well with Sheriff Boss Hoggfart and old Anus. They chased down those daggdurn Duke boys all over the carpet. And when Hoggfart and Anus chase Dukes on carpet. Only the great one* will know what happens. 

Puke Duke : Turn here, I hear that there is a stash of hookers on level   
5. Just past the goombahs! 

Admiral : Scree. 

Duke Duke : Sure thang Puke. But we have to hide the Admiral in a barn   
like we usually do. Or the Admiral wills gets all shots up when we all   
get back. 

Puke : Where will we find a barn at this hour of the boltfagratum? 

There's one with an apostrophe! Over there, on the other side of the   
sink : Duke Duke 

Puke : Hold on to your damn scroatum! We are going to jumps a gas hole! 

Hoggfart : I'll get you and you little scroatum too! 

FREEZE FRAME 

Will Puke and Duke Duke make it over the sink OF ETERNAL MOTHER CAR? Or   
will Hoggfart and Anus? 

-Commercial 

Do like to hear the sound of a man falling down the stairs? Who   
doesn't? Come down to Crazy Ignathious's house of Cadavers! Great for   
using carpool lanes, filling up empty seats at sporting events, AND   
THROWING DOWN THE STAIRS! AND THEY AREN'T RADIOACTIVE! PET AND   
NAUGAHIDE SAFE. Get two for the price of five! They are just rocket   
packing out the door. Get yours today, makes yum tasty good   
samdwitches,. 

* - Pat Sajak 

-Commercial  
Anus : DUHHHHHHHHHHHHHPOOFYDUHHHHHHHHHHHH 

-Commercial  
Therefor James Bond = 2 and Hookers = 3  
James Bond + Hookers = 5   
5 being the number that comes after 15718576171650000e10000000000 and   
before -5 It must be right because my hotdog told me so. 

-Show 

We now return to Ducks of Peril 

Uncle Aunt Jesse : They were good boys. All ways happy, always ripping   
steaming greasies when no-one was a round. Those boyz loved their   
farts. But now they are gone. Not so much as a peep now. And I   
had saved up over seventeen billion ham slices from my secret   
special moonshine for their university ed-u-cation. But they are   
in a better place now. More specifically, Hoggfart's ANUS! 

Hoggfart : What? They just sort of ended up there. 

Uncle Aunt Jesse : It don't matter now. Because I have seventeen   
billion ham slices and I can do whatever I do please I can. First off I'm GOING TO MISNEYLAND! 

That's right! Come to MisneyLand, the frappiest place on earth! We have mice with no shirts, ducks with no pants, a dog that drive a car! And best yet! NONE OF THEM HAVE GENITALIA! Here's some satisfied customers! "It's fraptastic! Plus, the coyote urine is almost undetectable!"  
"The best ride had to be the condemned mine shaft ride. I still can't find my leg!"  
"I found someone's leg in a urinal!"  
"I could barely taste the human feces!" 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Recipe for Plastic Spoon.  
1. 17 compressed zebra farts. 

"Hmm. 'Bob's House of Fart and Fart accessories'. This must be the place."  
"Excuse me." said the frazzled chicken.  
"Huh?" the clerk looked around frantically.  
"Excuse me! I hear you sell zebra farts." explained the chicken.  
The clerk looked down to see a small chicken with green feathers.  
"Yeah we sell zebra farts. Why do you ask." asked the clerk.  
"Umm yeah. I'd. Uh I'd like 17 zebra farts and a fart compresser to go along with that." the green chicken whispered.  
"Just what are you trying pull little man?" the clerk asked suspiciously as the chicken hopped up on the counter.  
"Listen bub. Here's my damn ham slices. Just give me my goods." The chicken said.  
"Don't make me have to call the authorities!" The clerk yelled as he took the phone off the hook.  
"Look. I'm building a plastic spoon. I don't want any trouble." The chicken explained calmly as he took out a monkey wrench and put it to the clerk's head.  
"PLASTIC SPOON?!?!"  
"SHH!"  
"Plastic spoon? I thought that they were outlawed after those kid's blew that casino up." The clerk explained.  
"Yeah I know, now just put the phone down, give me my goods and no-one will get hurt." The chicken told.  
"Yeah, yeah. Sure sure. I'll give you your goods. One stipulation though."  
"What is it?"  
"Can I come with you?"   
"Yeah, sure... I don't see why not." The chicken said happily.  
The clerk ripped off his bright green apron and paper hat and the two outlaws ran out the door and jumped into the green chicken's '67 Cadillac Eldorado, peeled rubber and drove off into the sunset playing DaDaDa on the BassBlaster 500 (TM)  
"My name is Hat. Oof Hat." Explained the clerk.  
"Oh yeah. My name is Chicken. Green Chicken." Replied the chicken.  
"My name is car. A car." Said the car.  
----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Bonus round!!! 

Here at Misney Land, we have the bestest rides on Earf.  
"Mommy? Why does that duck have no pants and no genitalia?" Asked the generic daughter of 8 years old.  
"I don't know, lets get some cotton candy and a barrel full of cadavers at Crazy Ignathious's, we're having meat tonight!" Said the generic mother figure.  
"Wait! Hold on, how are cartoon characters supposed to reproduce? You can't tell me that Daisy* and Donald* have never done it! I mean, he's wearing a sailor suit but no pant's is that an acceptable role model for today's generation? To walk around in public with no pants?!?!" Asked the generic daughter of 8 years old.  
"Well. You see, generic daughter of 8 years old. That's just one of the many questions that were not ment to be answered. Cartoons live for ever. It's just the cartoonists that die of bowling balls in the nuts." Replied error0001nopicture. 

Game Over   
Please Insert 2,000,000 Rooster McMeatballs to continue.  
5..4..3..2..1..0 

* - Names changed to avoid spontanious combustion. The opinions reflected are not those of Speef Narkle Ministries but those of the participants. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Questions? Comments?  
Wuckfad  
wuckfad@hotmail.com  
-or-  
wuckfad@bolt.com 

Rip Farts, Not War.  
Just Speef it. 

Reefers for the legalization of Marijuana.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------


	3. Chapter 3

The Brief History of Everything - OR - Recipe for Plastic Spoon  
Chapter 5  
Octoberary 20st, 1999  
By: Wuckfad 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 5 - Not quite as smelly. 

"This is by far not as smelly as the previous two chapters."  
- Me (Just now) 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Recipe for Plastic Spoon  
1. 17 compressed zebra farts  
2. 2 pieces McWinches  
3. A blade of grass 

The cream white '67 Eldorado convertable came to a screeching fishtaling halt making a nice set of tire tracks in the grass. Oof hopped out of the car and adjusted his hair. Green tried the same and ended up tripping on the door and bending his beak. Oof snickered.  
"What the hell is so funny Fartboy?" The green chicken yelled.  
"Nothing." Oof bit his tongue.  
"Well?!?!" Green said getting flustered.  
"Your beak is on crooked." Oof said with a semi-straight face. Green Chicken adjusted his beak and he got down to business.  
"Okay, here's the deal. We have to find a blade of grass." Chicken finally said walking out into the field. Oof stood there with a stupid look on his face.  
"Look around us Green. LOOK AROUND US!" Oof yelled with sarcasm in his voice.  
"Shut up wad. This is a special piece of grass." Green shouted back burying his head and his magnifying glass into the thick grass.  
"This is stupid! Look at this!" Oof yelled, "Here's one! Oh! Here's another one! Found another!" He continued ripping up tufts of the long grass and throwing them up into the air.  
"Stop it! Any one of those could have been it." Chicken replied trying to remain calm.  
"Grrf. This is insane. Call me when you find it." Oof said happily as he plunked himself into the backseat of the car lengthwise and put his feet up.  
"If you don't get back here, I will rip off your ears so you cannot hear me call you." Green explained in a detached voice.  
"Sheeat." Oof moaned as he jumped out of the back seat and got down on all fours.  
"What are we looking for?" Oof asked.  
"A blade of grass." Green replied holding a piece of grass under a magnifying glass.  
A Week Later...  
Chicken came walking out of a tent with several computer printouts and a single blade of grass in his hand. He had several days of stubble on his chin and was molting his lime green feathers.  
"Damn!" he said as the threw away the blade of grass.  
"I HAVE SEARCHED THIS ENTIRE FIELD FOR A BLADE OF GRASS!" Green Chicken screamed. Oof was startled out of his deep sleep.  
"God Damnit! Don't yell!" Oof shouted.  
"Ah.I'm sorry, it's just that I have searched the entire field for a piece of grass and I have failed to come up with any sort of results." Chicken sighed.  
"Have you searched the ENTIRE... field?" Oof said as he cocked his head.  
"Yes!" Chicken replied sarcastically and slightly angered.  
"Have you checked under the car?" Oof replied with a hint of intellegence in his voice.  
"Egad's! The car!" Chicken gasped as he dove under the car banging his head on the door. After shaking out the cobwebs he stuck his head under the car and look around frantically. Then, staring him in the face was a piece of purple grass.  
"This is it! This is the grass!" Green exclaimed as he pulled out a pair of tweezers and plucked the purple grass out by the roots and carefully placed it in a ziploc and zipped up the bag.  
"Now come on, lets pack up shop and get the hell out of this cesspool." Chicken said happily as he place the baggy in the trunk. Oof responded with an enthusiastic salute. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Questions? Comments?  
Wuckfad  
wuckfad@hotmail.com  
-or-  
wuckfad@bolt.com 

Rip Farts, Not War.  
Just Speef it. 

Reefers for the legalization of Marijuana.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------


	4. Chapter 4

The Brief History of Everything - OR - Recipe for Plastic Spoon  
Chapter 6  
Octoberary 20st, 1999  
By: Wuckfad 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Chapter 6 - This part is really shitty  
"My GOD! What were you thinking?!? You stupid idiot! Agh!"   
- Me (After reading back the following text I just wrote) 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

If Muppets were drafted... 

Kermit - I'm going in hot!  
BigBurd - Cover Fire!  
Grouch - I just wanted to live in a garbage can!  
BigBurd - Shut your damn mouth! You're lucky to be alive.  
Snuffleupagus - I out rank all you f***ing lemons! Now get out there... and win us a war.  
Count - AAAHHHH!  
BigBurd - Count's hit! Medic!  
Gordon - I'm coming.  
Grouch - Oh god! retch  
Gordon - I'm afraid he is going to need a replacement foam arm and... Maybe even hand surgery. His puppeteer was badly injured.  
Snuffle - Will he live?  
Gordon - Probably not.  
Count - 57 stitches ah ah ah. 59 stitches ah ah ohhhh.  
Gordon - He's dead, Bird.  
BigBurd - Damn you Nazi bastards!!!  
runs out screaming with his M-16 carbine blazing and gets shot in the head... With a rocket. His stuffing and assortted body parts scatters over the entire battlefield. 

"Due to incredible shittiness, 'If Muppets were drafted' Can not be seen at this time, instead we will now return you to something considerably less shitty." 

-Click- 

"Stephanie and I would like to introduce the new CEO of this company -"  
(insert Stone Cold Steve Austin's Theme.)  
"- Mr "Stone Cold" Steve Austin!" 

-Click- 

"The mating habits of the Polynesian Snap Dragon are as fascinating as they are exotic." 

-Click- 

"! Do as I say and not as I do because the shit's so deep you can't run away !" 

-Click- 

"Top stories in today's news. Russian Troops arrive in Kosovo. Plus we'll have an update on the latest E-Mail virus taking cyberspace by storm." 

-Click- 

"Do you suffer from male itch?" 

-Click- 

"Yeast infections can't be cured in one..." 

-Click- 

It's 2:35 in the morning. I am writing this on my laptop computer. I roll around in my bed looking for comfort. I practice different channel clicking techniques. Over the shoulder. Under the leg. Off the mirror, off the desk, off the table lamp, nothing but screen. The TV is starting to slur it's words and it's cycloptic eye is getting glazed over. How come everything in my room looks like a skull? I drool just a little bit as my head tilts backwards. I lay upside down, clicking channels like some Pavlovian rat. Click channels for food. That's what I do. I have that damn Nike song stuck in my head. Chackatoe chamo chamo chamo chamo Chackatoe chamo Chackatoe. Wait! Hold on, here's Super Mario Bros. the movie. I wonder why it got such bad reviews? It's seems like an excellant movie. Except for that Wong Foo guy. He's a Latino, not a Italian. I think I'm a skater, but I don't skate. It is now 2:57 in the morning. I remember that I always used to get killed by that first Goomba. I would swear like a damn sailor. "You Fucking Mushroom!" Or "Oh shit! Damn IT!" and I would throw the controller down in a fit of anger. I think this angel is pissed off at me. 

Well. That's another paragraph done. I'm just reflecting on a job well done. But wait. I'm a hamster. Damn, that fan is cold. I'd get up to turn it off but I'm a comatose hamster. Check baby check baby check baby check baby check check 1 2. Ah. That's better. squeek Needs a little fish! Who is the trunks? Trunks is Trunks! Boom bada boom bada Scratcha scratcha. My eye is sweaty. Damn it. Oh great! Mario Bros. Just fixed a sump pump. They are called Mario Mario and Luigi Mario. Wow that is a stupid name. "Hi my name is Scott Scott." "Excuse me?" "Scott Scott!" "Yeah, well fuck you buttfuzz!" My brain is just going to turn off pretty soon. -Click- Wait. Hold on. Everything looks like inkblot right now. The Mario Brothers just look like spotches of Grey and Red. "Which one is Geoff?" Said the sentence. My Friend/"Aquaintance" once told me he watched Mario Bros while he was stoned and he said that it was his best trip yet. Watching all those dinosaurs just eating the buildings. It is now 3:21 AM. That was one of the worst pieces of animation I have ever seen. Duh. We are dinosaurs eating plants. I counted the frames of animation and they move in just 2 frams per second. My parents had a pillow with the word fram on it. Obey your thirst. I obey the greater power, Vince McMahon. It's all just a soap opera now. HHH busted the Sock guy's leg. Or something. Smack. God damnit I'm tired. When I get cold I get tired. When I get tired I get cold and I am freezing my toes off right now. It's just about 3:40 right now. There is nothing on but Phone Sex commercials, Get Rich Quick commercials and Really bad movies. My pen is leaking... Aw. Wait, I don't have a pen.  
Right about now. This is the best thing on T.V.. It is like Titanic without the Naked Chicks. Mario Bros for life. I really don't fellike writing anymore. Tom Green is over, Mr. Show is over, Miller is over, Leno is over, Letterman is over, Kilborn is over. TV is just a bunch of fucking shit right about now. I think I might lift some weights and listen to FatBoy Slim. No. Wait. It's in my computer. Wait! I am on my computer! Dang! (First time I used dang in paragraph.) 

Phew. That was a long paragraph. It's amazing, If I wrote this much for school, I would be a fucking genious. Right about now, funk your brother. It is 4:00 Mario is over. Pulp Fiction is on. But I'm afraid that the truant officers will come and get me. I feel like a criminal right about now. I feel like someone is going to come into our house and eat my head. But of corse that's just my opinion, I could be wrong. I wonder if I could defend myself if someone id com into our shouse. yiou know, i don't have a ninga star or anything. Or a gun. I think that it would be cool to be able to use a set of ninchucks. I'm gangsta tripping roght about now. Wow. Eyes heavy. this is the exyent of my litarary skills at 4:04 in the morning. I always wonder what the AM stands for. Amplidtude modulation and PM stands for Perky Munchkin.  
Wait. Or maybe I'm just a smarmy kind of guy. I am chewing on a can. i amchewing on a can. I am chwingn ong a can. it is pretty tasty at 4:-05 in the morning. Maybe I should shine some light in my eyes. Ow. That was stupid. I sleep in a bunk-bed. Except that I don't have any siblings. I just banged my head on the top bunk. It hurts. Anyways. hmnmn. It's around 5:o' something. I wish I could make out this mumber of mine. My glass water is pretty warm. Mabye if I pretty infront of the fan it would get colld. Uh. My garbage can smells like crap. I puked in a garbage can once. What? It's getting light out. Oh well. I like anime. I like Sailor Moon. It could be the fact that it's 5:07 speaking but the short little skirts that she wears are tantilizing. And that way the way she wears her hair in those spaghetti things. 4/fifths of her height is leg. They are way too big for here body. But that is just another reason to like here. Anatomically superb! Except for the fact that her eyes are too big and her mouth is the zise of a dinner playte. I'ts 6 something or other, I guess it's time to get up. I think I might just do so now. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Questions? Comments?  
Wuckfad  
wuckfad@hotmail.com  
-or-  
wuckfad@bolt.com 

Rip Farts, Not War.  
Just Speef it. 

Reefers for the legalization of Marijuana.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------


	5. Chapter 5

The Brief History of Everything - OR - Recipe for Plastic Spoon  
Chapter 7  
Octoberary 20st, 1999  
By: Wuckfad 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 7 - One small step for a man, one giant step for Hoog.  
"Where is my hat?"  
-Someone, probably no-one. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

This is my computer. My computer is telling me. C:\. C:\. C:\! No! Stop poisoning my mind with your useless Jabroni Trash! My computer is a compilation of circuits. Of wires and the such. Yet I am seeing a screen with letters, and I am hearing sound. How can this metal and plastic box do such a thing, with electricity yet? How does this machine reliably turn on in such a way that is flawless in everyway? How? I don't know. Why, because, computers are cool. NO. That's not it. Remember back in the year 1942. The war had started. The only reliable mode of communication was the mail, the telegraph and the phone. And even back then it was still just an infant. Bombs and soldiers were the main mode of destruction. Now it is the virus and the hacker. Times have changed. Back then nobody had ever heard of Windows. Windows was a pane of clear glass. No it is making a dork with a bad haircut BillionsTM of dollars. Now we have cell phones, pagers, computers and color hi-definition television. Back then we had radio. Radio with music. Today's music is noise. Beautiful Noise. Powerful noise. Noise with the power to change the course of history. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"4 iron."  
"What the hell are you talking about? This is definitly a 5 iron shot."  
"Listen Neil. This is a 4 iron!"  
"You are so wrong. If you use a 4 iron, you will completely overshoot the pin."  
"Yeah, but if you use a 5 iron you will land fall short and end up in the bunker."  
Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldren were walking towards their balls on a trecherous 18th hole, 1500 yrd. Par 5 dogleg at the Royal Lunar Country Club.  
"Ha, my ball landed further than yours." Buzz exclaimed as he whipped a 4 iron out of his bag.  
"Maybe if you didn't cork your clubs." Neil whispered.  
"Are you implying that I cheat?" Buzz replied as he addressed the ball and took a couple of short swings.  
"No not at all." Neil bit his toungue.  
"Bah! Now check a master at work." Buzz gloated and swung at the ball. The ball sailed over the pin and into a crater.  
"No. NO. NO! Aw dang it!"  
"Haha! You deserved it." Neil broke out laughing.  
"No, really the wind, caught it!" Buzz explained pitfully.  
"There is no damn wind on the moon." Neil replied.  
"Oh yeah, Moon boy! Lets see you do better!" Buzz yelled.  
"Okay." Neil smiled as he walked back to his ball. He took out his prized 5 iron and stroked it. He tryed to give it a kiss as the club klinked against his visor.  
"Okay Old Abagail, do your stuff." Neil whispered to himself as he stepped up to the ball. Buzz looked on in disbelieve.  
"You talk to your clubs all the time?" Buzz shouted sarcastically.  
"If you could shut your trap for a second, maybe I could make my shot." Neil said as he took a few chops. He started his backswing and suddenly Buzz coughed.  
"DO YOU MIND?" Neil exclaimed angrily.  
"No not at all. Go ahead my good friend." Buzz laughed.  
"He took his backswing a hit the ball a good 400 yards, the ball was in the air for around ten seconds, it then plunked lazily on the green about five feet from the pin.  
"Fa... You cheated you..." Buzz yelled as he bounced towards Neil.  
"I did not!"  
"Did too!"   
Neil raised his club and smacked Buzz in the visor with the rubber end of the club putting a considerable smudge on it.  
"What in the Hell was that for?" Buzz yelled.  
"Ahh. Go find your ball while I hole out." Neil said angrily.  
"Find my ball? I have more balls! Why can't I just drop?"   
"One stroke penalty." Neil explained.  
"Damn!" 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Questions? Comments?  
Wuckfad  
wuckfad@hotmail.com  
-or-  
wuckfad@bolt.com 

Rip Farts, Not War.  
Just Speef it. 

Reefers for the legalization of Marijuana.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------


	6. Chapter 6

The Brief History of Everything - OR - Recipe for Plastic Spoon  
Chapter 8  
Octoberary 20st, 1999  
By: Wuckfad 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Chapter 8 - This is where the fun stuff begins!   
"Boy, these chapters are pretty damn short."  
-Bob the Ah-Haava Constable 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

A Brief History of Everything  
1) The Beginning of Time: Part 1 

In the beginning there was nothing, then there was God, the mighty ruler of everything. He must have screwed around for about a half a billion years watching The Price is Close. He then got bored and decided to make the Universe. That was all well and good. But he then conferred with his elders and they unanimously decided that the Universe was still pretty boring, not a single casino in sight. It was just a vast expanse of nothing. So the decided to make a casino, the bestest casino on the strip. So God took fourty days and fourty nights to make the casino called "Earf". Alas, God was still not happy with his creation for it had not a single crap table or slot machine it was just a blue ball. So then he created a crap table and a slot machine. He created beasts to visit the casino. He created a five star hotel for the beasts to stay in. He created the cigarette machine for beasts to get their smokes from and he created Adam, to watch over the crap table and God was happy. 

"Okay, I know this is your first day on the job so I want you to listen well." God explained.  
"Yeah, listening." Adam replied.  
"Your job is to watch over the crap table and nothing else. You may do as you wish when there is no-one at the table. You may play the slots and you make take from the cigarette machine. But do not take the Smokes of knowledge." God continued.  
"Which one is that?" Adam asked  
"The red ones."  
"Oh okay."  
"Well what are you waiting for? Do your job." God exclaimed.  
"I am! Christ!" Adam replied sarcastically.  
"Wha?" God asked.  
"Uh.. I don't know, just a word I made up." Adam replied.  
"Uh.. Okay, just do your job." God said as he turned to go back to the head office.  
Adam stayed behind the table all day, he was getting pretty hungry and he couldn't leave the table. So he tried to take his mind off of it. No one was coming to his table, mainly because the animals didn't know how to play craps, but Adam dutifully minded his post.  
"Boy, I could really use a hooker right now." Adam said to himself.  
"What about me?" a voice said from with in him.  
"What?" Adam looked down at his stomach, "I can't be that hungry."  
"Me! Your rib!" His rib yelled at him.  
"I don't know too much, but I know that ribs can't talk." Adam replied.  
"Ummm. I'm an.. uhh. Organ Master 3000TM. We can talk." The Rib explained.  
"Oh.. okay." Adam replied stupidly.  
"Come on, rip me out!"  
"No way, that will hurt!"  
"Don't be such a puss. Rip me out!" His rib yelled.  
Adam reached inside his chest an ripped out a rib. He tried talking to it.  
"Hello?" Adam said.  
"The next one down!" The talking rib yelled  
"Oh okay." Adam complied.  
He reached in again and plucked out a pink rib with shiny brass studs in it.  
"Thank you, you have no idea how bloody it was in there." The rib said as it dripped with blood.  
"I bet." Adam said.  
"Could you please wash me off?" The rib asked nicely.  
"I don't know, I have to watch my post you know." Adam replied.  
"Aw."  
"Errr. OKAY. Fine. Come on."  
Adam took the rib into the washroom and ran it under some hot water rubbing it down with some cheap washroom soap.  
"Wow! This is soooo kinky." The rib said, Adam continued to wash the rib.  
"Hey, a little bit lower please!" The rib said, Adam co-operated.  
"Oooh."  
Just then God came crashing down through the roof of the washroom and landed violently in one of the stalls breaking a toilet. The burst water pipe shot water up and wet the ceiling. Adam and the rib were caught by some of the spray. God walked through the stall door... knocking it down.  
"Hey you little duck! You are supposed to be watching the crap tables!" God yelled.  
"Yeah I know, but if I can't leave my post how am I supposed to sleep, or eat or take a crap?" Adam replied.  
"Touche." God said as he cocked his head to the side.  
"So I was wondering, maybe my rib can join the payroll, you know... we can take turns and stuff." Adam continued.  
God turned his back and paced back and forth through the stream of water stroking his soggy white beard, he stopped and turned towards Adam and the Rib.  
"Sure, why the hell not!?! He pointed his finger and the Rib, and in an instant, the Rib had turned into a beautiful woman.  
"Your name will be EVE." God explained.  
Eve looked at herself in the mirror. "Wow! Look at me. I am the first woman... EVER. I got hands and feet and eyes and br..."  
"Thank you very much Eve, that will be enough." God interuppted as he turned to go back to the head office. He stopped and turned back to the two. "Yeah, and get somebody to fix this too." He said as he pointed at the toilet.  
The first people on Earf looked at each other and then hugged.  
"By the way... Nice cans." Adam said  
God poked his head back through the door.  
".. of soup." Adam continued trying to save himself. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Soul Surfing through the clouds of the universe. There is much to been seen and much to be heard. Everything is consequence in my world. Pounding bass driving my soul to the edge of immortality. I cruise several inches from the edge of nothingness at three thousand miles an minute. It all seems like a fuzzy blur. When in a groove there is very little that can stop a soul surfer, except the end of a song. I slow down just enough to see a man on the edge of nothingness. He is holding up a sign. It says, will work for groove. I pick the guy up and he hops on the back of my board. It is time to go once again of into the realms of nothing, to see all the sights this magnificent thing called life offers. Music is the road to happiness. Follow it and you shall always be happy. A swaying rythmic energy cloud like some sort of drug, it penetrates my mind and a sense of eurphoria overcomes me. This is not reality. Reality can not be this driving, this powerful. The music is immersive. It is energizing. Music is the food of the soul, feed it and it will flourish. Feed it well. With soul music and funk. Rock and Roll is like junkfood. It is sweet and sounds nice to the ears, but It has no spiritual nourishment and will make you depressed and sad. The mind blurs and once again I drift into unconsiousness. The highway of the galaxy is a long one and it takes a certain someone to travel it. Someone who can decipher the intricacies of love and the soul. You got to cruise, you got put to put on a driving beat. Don't fear the foot tap. It is your friend. A little head nodding doesn't hurt either, and if you are feeling adventurous, go ahead and do a little head banging. But you got to keep one thing in mind. Don't concentrate too much. Just let the music take you where you want to go. A '67 Cream White Cadillac Eldorado Soft Top. No matter where you go. The funk will follow, and the soul shall be nourished. Be happy. Don't let life take you too seriously do the same for it. Slow down enough to obey the speed limits. But go fast enough to outrun the cops. The cops are like pop. They are the disease of soul. They deteriorate and degrade. Like a pestalance. Your energy shall be depleted and will leave you a lifeless heap. That's right I'm talking to you Spice Girls and Backstreet Boys and Moffats and N'Sync and 5ive and Hanson and all the rest, you have no place in our minds, or our souls. Don't let anyone tell you what to do. Don't let anyone tell you what to watch or what to listen to. It is you own choice. It is your life. You are only young once. You must live life to it's maximum potential. It doesn't matter if that is listening to music, or writing, or climbing the highest mountain in the universe, or rafting the longest river in the galaxy or flying to the moon, as long as you are happy that is what matters. Don't live your life for anyone else. Favours are expected. But do not devote. Be kind to the your body. But the body is weak and is expected to die, but soul is forever keep it healthy and you shall live forever. 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Recipe for Plastic Spoon  
1. 17 compressed zebra farts.  
2. 2 pieces McWinches  
3. A blade of purple grass.  
4. A police cruiser hubcap. 

The sky was turning a orangie yellow. A cool desert wind blew through Green Chicken's feathers. Their FM signals were fading, so Chicken popped out one of his CD's and put it in the CD player. The song was "Soul Surfing" by Fatboy Slim. He quickly slipped into a groove and put the hammer down and blazed off into the distance. A trail of sparks trailed behind them as the torque had bottomed out the back end of the car. The wind rushed past his head. He took a second to put on a pair of Raybands to keep the dust out of his eyes. The Reddish sky reflected of the car turning it a bright cherry red. Cacti flew by at a blinding speed. The center line blurred into a single yellow strip. He looked at Oof lying sideways in the backseat. Chicken turned up the volume and bass. The deafening sound startled Oof. He groggily rose to his feet and wiped the sleep out of his eyes. He reached down and frantically swiped around for a bottle of beer. He found one a lifted it to his parched mouth. Realizing that there was very little left in the container, he promptly threw the bottle out the side. The bottle landed with a thud in the dirt at the side of the road. Oof reached back under the seat and to his surprize he found an unopened bottle of Molson Canadian. He opened the screw top and emptied the contents into his happy gullet. He licked his chops and put the the lid back on and put it back under the seat. Green looked in his rear view mirror and saw a pair of flashing red and blue lights. He then looked over his shoulder to confirm and saw a police cruiser closing in fast on them. He didn't want any trouble so he pulled over to the side like a law abiding citizen.  
"Damn! Oof! Put that stuff away! We got company!" Green yelled.  
"I know man!" Oof said as he picked up all the beer bottle and stuffed them into a secret compartment in the seat.  
"Just as long as he doesn't look in the trunk." Chicken continued.  
"Listen Oof. You know what you have to do. Don't you."  
The car lurched as they came to a stop in the dirt, the cop car follow suit. The hulking beast of a policeman stepped out of his cruiser. He lumbered up to the car. Oof hopped out of the car and walked to the right side and leaned up against the car.  
"Please stay inside the car sir." The office explained to Oof in his booming voice. The bass rumbled the car.  
"Yea... I got to take a piss." Oof replied as he walked into the bushes.  
"Fine." The officer looked to Green, "Do you know how fast you were going sir?"  
"I don't know, My speedometer only goes up to one fifty." Green replied with a smile on his face.   
"Are you trying to be smart?" The officer asked angrily.  
"No. But it just seems that way standing beside you." Green Chicken bit his tongue. The officer started to write up the ticket. Oof came out of the bushes and sneaked over beside the cruiser. He pulled out a screwdriver and pryed a cap off the cruiser and snuck back behind Green's car. The cop handed chicken the ticket and started walking back to the cruiser. Oof jumped out from behind Oof's car and smacked the officer in the forehead with the hubcap. The cop reeled from the hit. Oof jumped up on the trunk of the car and hopped into the back seat. Chicken revved the engine and lit the wheels up as he peeled hot rubber. The wheels glowed psychedellic rainbow colours from the heat. The cop recovered and squeezed off a couple of shots at the leaving car, hitting nothing but pavement. The cop ran back to this awaiting cruiser to chase the fleeing suspects. The cop car sped towards the suspects. As the cruiser pulled up beside the Cadillac. Oof pulled down his pants and mooned the officer. Oof sat down as the cop fired a shot at Oof's rear. Oof reached behind the seat and grabbed a beer bottle and suddenly got an idea.  
"Green speed up just a bit." Oof commanded.  
"Okay, why?" Green asked.  
"Just do it!" Oof yelled.  
Green Chicken slammed down on the accelerator and they zoomed ahead of the pursuer. Oof raised the bottle over his head and slammed it down infront of the cruiser and the bottle shattered. The glass shredded the cops tires. Sparks were shooting of the rims.  
"Warp Speed Mr. Chicken!" Oof yelled as he flipped the officer a couple of one finger salutes.  
"Aye Captain!" Green replied as the car began to blur. The car streched out and blazed off in a streak of blue light into the sunset. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Questions? Comments?  
Wuckfad  
wuckfad@hotmail.com  
-or-  
wuckfad@bolt.com 

Rip Farts, Not War.  
Just Speef it. 

Reefers for the legalization of Marijuana.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------


	7. Chapter 7

The Brief History of Everything - OR - Recipe for Plastic Spoon  
Chapter 9  
Octoberary 20st, 1999  
By: Wuckfad 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Chapter 9 - Stoned  
"Wow, that was some damn fine hash."  
-Wuckfad (Looking at preceding chapter.) 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Just a xrygg full of bartock  
makes the medicine go down  
makes the medicine go down 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"BARTOCKS! DID YOU EAT MY HAT AGAiN!" Said the wall.  
"No I didn't eat hat. But I did smoke some textbook last year?"  
"Oh okay. As long as you didn't eat my hat."  
"Do you have any BLATZ? Because he only drinks BLATZ?"  
"I think I said I had some think sauce in my hard hat. Lemme go check"  
"Okay Butdon'tbetoolongaboutit. My foot is waiting outside."  
"Just a second. My ear is ringing... Hello? Oh hI BOB!"  
"Who is it?" I buzt crack 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

HOW DO YOU MAKE A DOG DRINK?  
PUT IT IN A BLENDER!!!  
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! 

This and many other gems can be yours when you order BELT FRUMGAM'S GREATEST HITS on CD or 2 Audio Cassettes. Classics like the Porno Bloopers Sketch, the Dead Moose Sketch and Others! PLEASE SEND US YOUR DAMN MONEY OR WE WILL BELT FRUMGAM WILL DIE in Disp()  
Error: 91Room: TV: Kenny's South Park Cafe  
Alias: Vv_The_Suicide_King_vV  
String: [#F04F00m y[#E30000m d[#AB0000m  
Z: 0  
CRLF: 0 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"Careful. The Boogomatic Adjustable bed hasn't been insured yet..."  
"Don't worry, I've done this billions of times."  
"Well. I'd just like to be safe then sorry." I don't like this whole stuffed moose idea."  
"Oh come on. You have nothing to worry about. We just put the moose in the bed and when she wakes up she will have a fit." 

Insert Strobe Light and Gogo Dancers 

10 minutes later. 

"Fart?"  
"Yes? What is it?"  
"Welcome to Celebrity 1000 - The Place where YOU Rock the Opinion Polls!  
Please select your five favourite comedians by clicking on the checkbox beside the comedian's name. You don't have permission to access / on this server. Fung.com is shared by MailBank clients for their personal Email and matching Website addresses. Runner-up in the season opener circle at the last two races and last month Rockingham's own "Fast Frankie" Gurano tries to gates open at 5 pm, Outlaw Pro Street qualifying at 6:30 and 7:15 pm, eliminations at 8 pm, unlimited time trials until 11 pm. Sport Utility Vehicles My '98 Mitsubishi Eclipse choose the life  
you want to live USA.com is brought to you by USA.com, Inc.  
All products are trademark of their respective owners."  
"Whey?!?"  
"Yes Please." 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
"YES! YOU TOO CAN OWN THE THE INCREDIBLE BARTLEFLOX 3000! THE LATEST IN ADJUSTABLE FURGLENATZ! IT SLICES, IT DICES, IT EXORCIZES! WITH JUST A BOOT IN THE HEAD AND 17 DOZEN EAR CANNONS MAKE YOUR DEAD FLY! A SUPERB AMOUNT OF CHEEZE FLAVORED SAUCE! not to be taken internally.  
----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Hello. I am typing a bunch of ztrat jklasadt. See how the munchkin waiter bag deer eats house ninja star what? No I would not like any refridgerator and no bartzkelahgasst16u17adf jolas. Who put the dog in the toiletries. It's belongs over here with all the other action heros. IT'S AN ACTION HERO FOR YOUR BREAH! ear hoat brig nob sart jup gringo. HEY YOU SIN OF A BOTCH! WHY DON'T YOU JUST GO AND BUTTRAM AN CAT? HEY! I need some beer. I'ttaa aaaamazing how one haliutyly smouuke can blow yerrrooyyentirrrrrrreee amont. I have a good vocabulraty. Don't you thinkg bbarrrrrtyoxaajt   
? Ddon't you eaaat that'; cat! Th;pat's my rwetrirement cat! I needita for retirement! NO! EIDOS MAJKES GOOD CHEEZED!.\ Alf is good. So you see. The particle theory of evolution is related to the theta I over theta R and if the angle of incidence is too great. The sin of the product goes over 1, producing Total Internal Reflection, but of course if you understand the concept of rectalinear fubturbaaaaasete. Then you you would already know atart a; . RIP FARTS, NOT WAR!@ YOU SENSYSED MY SPIDER SENSe iS TYNUHHLUIOS .SJOT :S.wa78p94. So you see, The rectalinear propagation is the key to finding the sin of the angle of incidence. Going from a medium with a high index to a low index has the tendancy to bleef grugs, and end up going into the shithole with all the other bilbo nuts in this world, so here is my message to you CUPS out there. GHARBLE MERUGHA:LKXJITYPWITYY WJSGERBUKE. BUTTRAM A CAT. THIS IS MY BUSH!!!!!!!!!!! 

----------------------------------------------------------------------- 

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY TELEVISION IS DROOLING?"  
"JOXER! GET YER ASS IN HEAR! THE ERTLE ADJUSTOMATIC BED \ IS DROOLING?  
"WHYT?" SAID ONE.  
"NOT TO BE TAKEN INTERANATNATNATNATNATN....................WHAT? SPIDERS! AHH! CALL MONA DA HOOKER!"  
(SUNG TO THE MONA THE VAMPIRE SONG) 

OH! YOUR ASS IS THE SIZE OF A BEACH BALL!  
JUST A BILBO NUTS!  
MUNCH A CATS RUG?  
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!   
BEWIP BWUP BLEEP!  
BEWIP BWUP BLEEP!  
BOOTJS TRYJAS SKEEBOY! YES! IT'S THE MONA THE HOOKER SHOWOW OW!  
MONA SHOW US YOUR ASS! 

(END!)  
MONA: Hey you fuckers? Why did you call me here?  
EVE: TO eat your bush.  
MOna: OH yeah you might just be acc aay jkla;asr=-25960 t  
Yeah so is your momma EVE  
YOU WANT SOME CHICKEN FRIED PUSSY?  
SHIT NO! i JUST HAD TIMBITS!  
  


-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
Questions? Comments?  
Wuckfad  
wuckfad@hotmail.com  
-or-  
wuckfad@bolt.com 

Rip Farts, Not War.  
Just Speef it. 

Reefers for the legalization of Marijuana.  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------


End file.
